


Mutual Indulgence

by poesparakeet



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Biting, Bondage, Bottom!Hannibal, Cunnilingus, Drunk Hannibal, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, F/M, Frottage, Kink, Marijuana, POV Female Character, Recreational Drug Use, Restraint, Tickling, Vaginal Sex, female orgasms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-02-25 07:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2613803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poesparakeet/pseuds/poesparakeet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alana arrives at Hannibal’s house unexpectedly to one stoned, sloshed secret cannibal. At first she is only trying to get him to bed, but circumstances change. The evening works out nicely for everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> You can reach me via tumblr for chatting, prompts, praise at www.poesparakeet.tumblr.com
> 
> Update: I've started writing original tickling fiction. That blog can be found at   
> www.prudence-please-tickle.tumblr.com  
> I published my first ebook recently, and I'm pretty proud! There's a link on the sidebar of the porn blog I just mentioned.

When Alana pulled up to Hannibal’s home the driveway was flooded with lights from his porch and a single set of headlights. The stone was scribbled with wet tire tracks from the departure of his many guests, but at the moment there was only one car present that wasn’t hers or Hannibal’s. She’d missed the dinner party to attend a wedding shower for an old friend, promising to come over to stay for the weekend. She was looking forward to it, and her stomach swelled with excitement when she got out of her car. No patients. No death, no murder. They had both cleared their schedules beginning after Hannibal’s party that Friday night. As she walked through the damp night air, breeze scented with the promise of a thunderstorm, she felt the weight of the world drop slowly from her shoulders.

The man himself was standing on his front step, waving goodbye to the last guest. Alana squinted at the time on the too-bright screen of her phone: two in the morning. She was supposed to come for breakfast the next morning, but the drive would have made the trip silly at this hour, and Hannibal had wanted her to arrive tonight anyway. Though evidently he had already found a way to entertain himself.

As she approached him he turned to her and smiled. Her heart nearly dropped out of her chest. It wasn’t Hannibal’s usual prim curve of the lips, but something wider and more genuine.That’s Will’s smile her thoughts whispered, but he pulled her into his arms and the moment passed. She stopped focusing on the smile to look into bright eyes that topped flushed cheeks. “Have you been drinking?”

Hannibal nodded. “Dr. Jotun stayed after the party. You are stunning.” He swayed a bit with her held in his arms.

Alana pulled him strait, laughing and teasing. “You’re drunk!”

Hannibal just held her tighter and pulled her into an enthusiastic kiss. They were still in the spotlight of the final guest’s headlights, and as they kissed he honked playfully before pulling out and driving away.

Alana finished the kiss, pulling away and making a small face when the taste of marijuana overwhelmed her. “More than a little drunk, hm?”

He just grinned at her again, an exaggerated version of his own smile, she could see that now. They started through the front door, but he tripped on the step and she grabbed his belt to help right him, giggling.

“I’m so sorry Alana.” He told her, a little breathless, pulling her into his arms again to speak against her hair. “I wasn’t expecting you until the morning, and Derek is an old friend… who really enjoys his cannabis.”

“Should he have been driving?”

“His wife picked him up.” He nosed past her hair to kiss her neck. “You taste very sweet tonight.”

She chuckled. “I would scold you for over-indulging, but I am really enjoying all of the complements.”

“Ah. Now I know how to get away with things.” He winked at her, the expression still oddly unlike him. She accepted it, though, because it was rare to see him so relaxed. He watched her with a look that was so effortlessly attentive that she felt it’s grip in her bones.

Alana gripped his shoulders in a way that said ‘stay here’ and strode quickly through his house shutting off lights. She collected a large bottle of water from the fridge before creeping up behind him and standing on her toes to kiss the back of his neck. “Do you want to go upstairs?”

He nodded. “There is a fire going in my study.”

Alana thought that the bedroom would be a better idea, but she followed him anyway, carefully walking behind him on the stairs. She kept a hand out to grab his shirt if he started to fall, but he kept his balance.

The study was very warm from the fire, and the scent of smoke still hung in the air. She walked over to a window and opened it, letting the cool night pierce the room. When she turned back Hannibal was fiddling with a large floor to ceiling curtain on the wall opposite the desk.

She had been in this room before, and she’d always assumed the curtains covered another set of large windows. When Hannibal pulled them back she saw that she was wrong. On the other side of the curtain was a bed, set into an alcove so that three sides were against three softly upholstered walls, the rear one with a small round window high up near the ceiling. She’d seen the set up before, often called a nurse bed, in the office of a colleague. A safe place for a patient to sleep supervised by their psychiatrist, often the only person that made them feel secure enough to close their eyes.

“I didn’t even know that was there. When do you see patients at home?” She took the curtain from his clumsy fingers and tucked it into the silk rope meant to hold it aside.

“Almost never. Will has slept here several times, and…” He gave he a guilty glance.

“Abigale.” She finished, standing in front of him and reaching for the buttons on his waistcoat. “It’s alright.”

He nodded placidly and rested his chin on her head before noticing what she was up to. “Alana, I don’t know if I can…”

She smiled up at him. “I know.”

“Then… why are you undressing me?”

The puzzled tone made her laugh again, and she grabbed the front of his shirt when he swayed. “Because if you fall asleep in your clothes you’ll be unhappy in the morning.” She slid his waistcoat off, then got to work on his tie. He kept trying to help, fingers getting in her way.

She grabbed his hands in hers. “Do you want to spend the night in here?” He nodded in response, so she used her grip on him to back him up slowly until his back was to the nurse bed.

“Good.” She shoved him backwards.

His eyes widened, and he let out a small, shocked “Oof!” as he tumbled backwards. The bed caught him at the knees so his feet dangled off the edge. He looked up at her, gaze questioning, but his body was all but boneless, sprawled languidly across the bedspread.

“Just hold still.” She started to crawl onto the bed with him, but changed her mind and dropped onto the floor instead.

“Alana?” He called when she dropped out of sight. She started to untie his shoes, and he relaxed again, letting her. After his shoes were placed neatly on the floor next to the bed she groped for the edge of his sock, only to have his foot jerk and dance away from her.

She didn’t think anything of it, grabbing his foot to hold it still, but when her fingers caught his arch the foot flexed hard, jumping out of her grip again. She grinned a little grin entirely for herself, since Hannibal couldn’t see her. Then she brushed teasing fingers along the ball of his left foot, causing both feet to flail a little.

“Alana!” Hannibal gasped.

She could only laugh at his scandalized tone. “Are you ticklish?”

“Of course! Nearly everyone is… come up here with me!”

Alana was still grinning when she popped her head up from beside the bed. “You’re full of surprises, I didn’t think you would ever be ticklish.” He rolled his eyes at her, so when she clamored onto the bed next to him she couldn’t help but walk a playful hand over the bend of his knee. His annoyed expression broke into a wincing smile and he huffed, leg twitching away from her.

Hannibal gave her a long suffering look. “What are you doing?”

“Enjoying myself.” She answered. “Immensely.” Alana liked tickling, having had a lover during her undergrad years ago who’d loved to be tickled in bed. During her time with him she’d found the kink had an innocence and intimacy that appealed to her.

She straddled Hannibal, and he relaxed, smiling up at her and placing his hands under the hem of her dress, rough, warm palms flat on her thighs. As she undid the buttons of his shirt she kissed him hard before ducking her head to rub her nose against the soft skin under his ear.

She could pretend that the move wasn’t meant to set him off again, but that would be a lie. His shoulder jumped, pushing her away from the sensitive skin while an embarrassed smile flickered across his features. She snickered at him. “There’s no way this is a normal reaction from you. Is it the alcohol?”

“I think it’s the hash, actually. Or some combination of the two.” He answered, voice a little breathless.

She raked her fingers down his stomach through his silk shirt and he wiggled beneath her, hands pushing hers away but doing so with little insistence. In fact he seemed to be making little effort to stop her at all, and though she was sure some of it had to do with a lack of coordination she thought Hannibal must be submitting to her ministrations.

The man was strong, sometimes unbelievably so. The first time they’d fucked against the wall of the huge steam shower in his en-suite he’d surprised her by lifting her almost effortlessly. With anyone else she would have been weary of falling on her head, but with Hannibal it was like being supported by a marble statue.

Now his movements were subdued, almost too gentle. Yet she hadn’t lied about enjoying herself, this new, more submissive side of Hannibal had a hot flush spreading from her cheeks and downward. His squirming beneath her was very stimulating, and though the reactions she was getting from him were muted by his still-impeccable self control they were gratifying to watch.

She reached into the collar of his half open shirt to scrabble her fingers over his collar bones, making his shoulders shrug forward endearingly. When she grabbed a handful of fabric to pull his shirt out of his pants Hannibal’s hands suddenly become much more animated, shooting towards her wrists defensively. His inebriation made him slow, though, and Alana’s fingers were quick as sparrows when they shot under his shirt to attack the smooth mounds of his hips.

Hannibal yelped quietly, breaking out into soft, breathy laughter, simultaneously bucking hard and grinding himself into her. The sudden shift almost unseated Alana, throwing her forward onto his chest and banging her chin on his sternum while she gasped with the sudden spike of her own arousal. She stayed there, face flaming, blocking his view of her hands and making him thrash beneath her She pressed her forehead under his chin and laughed with him, making her fingers climb his ribcage.

“Alana!” He grunted through his quiet laughter, half scolding, but his hips were moving more purposefully now that the friction between them had made him a little hard. She found a spot above his short ribs that made him arch his back and, if she dared to believe it, hiss “shit!” under his breath.

Realizing that he had no hope of maneuvering her hands out from under his shirt at this angle, Hannibal put his hands back under her dress and tickled dexterous fingers across the backs of both thighs. She giggled, grinding herself into his hip, deliberately stroking the bulge in his trousers across her inner thigh. He moaned and the heat between her legs increased further, so she repeated the gesture. His fingers traveled upward to tickle her at the crease where buttock met thigh and she was shocked by the intensity of the sensation, squealing loudly and losing control of herself for long enough that Hannibal received a short reprieve from her torment of his ribs. He made a triumphant sound, fingers getting more deliberate.

God, Alana thought, she should have known better than to start with him. Hannibal was a damned tease with a dangerous attention to detail, and that predictably made him truly deadly at this. Alana wiggled and shrieked on top of him, the desire to keep pressure and friction against her arousal making her push her hips back into his hands every time she tried to jerk away. The sensation got too intense, and since her mouth was already against his half bared shoulder she nipped him hard in an attempt at distraction.

It worked. Just not the way she had thought it would.

Hannibal’s finger’s stilled immediately, a gutted gasp turning to suddenly labored breathing. “Alana…” He groaned her name, and she bit him again. He bucked and ground against her, hips twisting while a guttural sound filtered through his teeth. Alana stopped biting to smile into his skin.

Hannibal regained a little control, switching the grip of his hands to the front of her thighs, teasing at the edge of her panties with his thumbs and encouraging the rutting movement of her hips. Alana felt herself panting into the absorbent heat of Hannibal’s shirt front and remembered her own hands, gliding her palm up and down his torso soothingly for a few moments before turning the touch wicked and digging her fingers into his ribs.

“Aha!” Hannibal choked, squirming under her again, so she timed the rhythm of her hips to his twisting spasms while nipping gently at his chest. He alternated between gentle laughter and breathy gasps, throwing his head back to let her at his neck while trying to fold his ribcage in on itself.

His arousal seemed to lower his defenses, because he wasn’t even trying to block her hands anymore, opting instead to grip her thighs tightly and help her to achieve the friction she sought against him. So she started to creep her hands up higher, grazing her front teeth along a collar bone for good measure. Hannibal made a frustrated sound, panting in harmony with her.

When she slid her fingers under his arms he made a strangled yelp, bucking again and half rolling over to try and smother his mirth in the bedspread. “Stop stop!” He gasped, trying to defend himself from the flitting hands while pulling her tight against his chest with one arm and squeezing her ass delightfully with the other. She didn’t, instead taking the opportunity to bite his shoulder hard. “Ah!” Hannibal’s breath seemed to get stuck in him, able to inhale but not capable of letting it out without moaning.

Every one of his muscles seemed to freeze around her, reminding her of that time against the wall of the shower. She followed him over the edge, breath hitching while tension and heat gripped her hard and rode her out. A wave of tingling, a rain of endorphins washed over her face. They both went boneless, resting together like mattress and blanket. The rest of the evening was a bare minute of kicking their clothes off the bed and collapsing under the covers. 


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

When Alana woke the next morning the air was very still. The lightly padded walls of the nurse bed seemed to wick away all of the sounds of the outside world. The high set window on the rear wall filled the alcove with hot light. The sheets were warm, dry and soft. She thought she could lay there all weekend, in a cave built from goose down and rich fabric.

Which was lucky, since Hannibal’s large slumbering form was stretched out like a great cat next to her, blocking her ability to leave the bed without crawling over him. Alana watched him for a moment, thinking of the pieces of him she’d seen last night that he hadn’t allowed her to see before. She felt a new kind of intimacy that she hadn’t realized they were lacking.

Hannibal’s eyes flicked open. She smiled at him across the plains of linen pillow cases.

“Morning. How do you feel?”

Before she’d even finished the sentence he winced and buried his face in a soft pillow. She couldn’t help but chuckle. He peeked at her long enough for an accusing squint.

“Don’t look at me like that. Your misery is self inflicted.”

With a sigh he sat up, found the water she’d dropped next to the bed the evening before, and threw his head back to drink deeply while strolling across his study naked toward the bathroom.

She knew she was invited to join him when she heard the shower, but she stayed behind in the bed. She wanted a quiet moment. They had both been running on fumes by the time they collapsed the night before. She remembered Hannibal’s grin when she walked up to him in the drive, and the further laughter and smiles she’d pulled out of him. She smiled herself. It had been quite an experience. Her experience with tickling in sex was greater than most, thanks to a boyfriend in med school who’d loved to be tied up and tormented. That young man had submitted too easily, both in bed and in life. Hannibal was much more fun. He fought back, teased, struggled, and scolded. She remembered the way he’d bucked under her the night before, and suddenly felt too warm beneath the heavy comforter.

The pad of bare feet was almost silent on the thick carpet. Alana let out a loud, content sigh when a sharp nose was buried in her hair while thick arms circled her waist.

“Better?”

He hummed the affirmative, and she spun around in his embrace to face him. Hannibal watched her with an inner stillness she had come to associate only with he and Will. She wondered, sometimes, if that was what had driven her to suggest Hannibal to Jack. Maybe even then she had seen the similarities between them. Those similarities unsettled her now.

Hannibal watched her for a few moments more before settling around her and closing his eyes. Alana chuckled and wiggled feebly in his arms before relaxing with a grunting sigh.

“It’s like sleeping with a clingy brick house.” She groaned.

A smile twisted Hannibal’s features, and without opening his eyes he rolled a little more of his body weight on to her.

“Oof!” Alana choked. “Hannibal!” Without even thinking she freed her trapped hand out from between their bodies and buried wiggling fingers under his arm. His torso immediately jumped away from hers, but the ticklish spot that had had him thrashing the night before got her only a polite squirm and a suffering smile that morning.

“Alana!” He scolded her, so she stopped. Rolling onto his back, he propped up his head to give her a sideways look. “I was so hoping you had forgotten.”

She laughed, setting down next to him as though they were watching the stars. “I will never forget that. Besides, I was not the one at risk for short term memory loss last night.”

Hannibal looked surprisingly guilty. “I must apologize—”

“Don’t.” She cut him off. “I told you, it’s fine.” She twisted to look up at him coyly. “Especially considering how it turned out. Though I think I would prefer to be more involved in the process of your inebriation in the future.”

Whatever modest guilt Hannibal had been feeling transfigured into a wicked gleam in his eyes when he grinned at her. “You did seem to enjoy yourself.”

“So did you.”

He rolled his eyes, avoiding her gaze. “Well—”

“Hannibal, you came in your pants.” She deadpanned.

A shocking amount of pink spread across the tops of Hannibal’s cheeks. His lips parted with clear intention of rebuttal, but no sound came out. He hesitated before looking quizzically at the ceiling to avoid her expectant gaze.

After a few seconds of silence, Alana was snickering into the comforter. “I’ve left you speechless. How exciting.”

Hannibal made a face before rolling on top of her, braced on his elbows so she wasn’t crushed this time. “Knismolagnia. It’s very interesting. How much do you like it?” He started to nuzzle at her neck and breasts gently, stimulating her only with hot breath, soft nose, and the barely-there moistness of his lips.

Alana sighed, stretching like a cat to give him access. “I like it well enough. I don’t get to indulge very often, though. It’s a bit niche for most partners.” Her breath hitched with his lips grazed a nipple. “I don’t imagine that’s a problem with you.”

Hannibal gazed up the length of her body and smirked. “I have no idea what you could mean.”

It was Alana’s turn to roll her eyes, but the gesture was cut off by an embarrassing squeak when Hannibal simultaneously tweaked the ticklish spot on the curve of her ass and planted a kiss on the peak of her pubic mound. Her hips jumped, and in a flash she sat up and overturned him. He let her, laying placidly under her folded form perched atop his hips, attentive. This was not submission, Alana knew. Hannibal was as still and relaxed as a predator in the presence of a pigeon. It was a fleeting thought, and she let it flap away into the dim study outside their plush nest.

“Of course you don’t.” She teased him, before leaning down and nipping hard right next to a light yellow bruise on his shoulder. The sharp intake of breath and the harshly controlled jerk of his body let her know that the last night hadn’t in fact been a dream.

He looked embarrassed again, glancing down at the barely-there bruise before meeting her eyes shyly. “I was wondering where that came from.”

Alana chuckled. “You can’t remember? I feel like I would remember anything that made me moan like that.” She licked a stripe up his bicep and bit him again for emphasis.

Hannibal shuddered under her and gave her a look that was two parts embarrassment and one part disapproval. She smiled back sweetly, eyes wide and guiltless, resting her chin on his sternum.

He paused, looking down at her, seeming genuinely perplexed at how to respond for a moment before breaking her gaze and rolling her under him effortlessly. When the world stopped spinning he was leaning over her prone form, both of them tangled in twisted sheets. He was kneeling between her spread legs with a wolf’s grin on his face. She smiled back at him and wiggled enticingly.

Hannibal leaned in to give her a pecking kiss, making her chase him when she tried to deepen it. He placed another kiss between her breasts before startling an excitable squeak out of her when he dropped his head down low and flipped her legs up over his shoulders. He hovered there, teeth still bared, and a thrill went through her. He lowered his body, planting a rough kiss on the inside of her right thigh. It made her jump.

Alana was already squirming under him in anticipation when he seemed to pause and watch her again, hot breath ghosting soft, short pubic hairs and making the skin beneath tingle. She playfully bucked her hips into his chin with a groan.

“Hannibal, don’t be a tease!”

His smile only widened, and from the grip he had on her hips crawled spidering fingers, making her squeal. He looked at her pointedly.

“I don’t think you have a leg to stand on, my dear.” He told her, and it was the last thing he said for a while. His mouth began to work in earnest, drawing out the lovechild of a gasp and a moan from somewhere deep in her belly. It was as a result of his ministrations that she was caught quite unprepared when his fingers started up again, first walking up her sides, then reversing the path to slide across the length of her hips and tease the curve of her buttock again.

She squirmed and jerked under him, her giggling occasionally giving way to a gasp. Her hands tried to swat his away, but the attempt only made the wicked fingers return to the spot on her upper thigh that made her shriek. Since she couldn’t bat at his hands from that angle she tried to sit up, only to immediately lose the delicious pressure of his mouth. His hands remained against the plump curve of her thigh, but they stilled.

“Hey!” She wrinkled her nose at him, and he responded with only a wide eyed innocence that was undoubtedly meant to mimic her own. “Ugh!” She cried, grabbing a fistful of Hannibal’s hair and pulling him into position when she flopped onto her back. She felt him chuckle against her and thought that she probably deserved this.

He let his hands hover over her sides teasingly for a moment while he worked her, and it made such a sense of anticipation curl in her stomach that Alana almost wanted to beg him to begin. Hannibal’s mouth had caused a hot flush to run up her torso. His fingers floated nearer to her skin and goosebumps followed it.

Finally his fingertips found the lowest ridge of her ribcage before skimming harmlessly downward. It tickled and she laughed softly, but the move was meant to tease. He made the same pass a few times, keeping warm delicious pressure against her clit while watching her up the length of her body with the devil’s mischief in his eyes.

Alana was feeling heady. She wanted more pressure, from his mouth, on her clit, from his fingers, anywhere. She tried to push herself into him by bucking her hips hard, but he only withdrew and snickered at her attempts. When she settled back onto the bed he began again, still too gentle and slow for her liking, but the distraction had served it’s purpose. She was so flustered by the need to finish that Hannibal’s mouth became her primary focus.

This time it began with the gentle pressure on his palms flat on the ticklish spot atop her thighs, only enough to remind her that they were there and create a tension within her. Her breath hitched, and at the gutted sound he raised his eyes once more, winked, and set the concentrated efforts of his skilled fingers on her.

Alana let out a little scream of laughter before Hannibal buried his face between her legs, finally giving her the pressure and friction she desired. The unbearable electricity of his touch and the sweeping pressure of his tongue pushed her over the edge. She let out cries of pleasure through her laughter as the rush of orgasm poured down on her, using her hands in his hair and the strength of her legs to ride the feeling out.

When it stopped she had a head rush. She threw a pillow at him, but missed. “Tease.”

Hannibal only smirked at her. “I felt like I owed you one.”

Somewhere during her post-orgasm fog he got up and left, despite her insistence that she could take care of his needs as well. Ten minutes later she could hear the crackle of breakfast from the kitchen downstairs.

“Alana!” Hannibal called for her. “Come downstairs, let me feed you.”

She followed.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their final evening together, things culminate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter, enjoy!  
> Fanfic Tumblr:  
> poesparakeet.tumblr.com  
> Original Tickling Fetish Fiction (NSFW):  
> prudence-please-tickle.tumblr.com

Alana wasn’t sure she’d ever been this relaxed. She’d dined on Hannibal’s rich food the entire weekend, overslept in his soft bed and listened to him play his instruments while browsing his library. The escape from her everyday life was fantastic. The weekend was turning out to be exactly what they both needed— a reprieve from the horror Jack Crawford brought into their lives.

She felt closer to him than she had ever been before. After all, she wasn’t the type for workplace affairs. The weekend had given them intimacy and familiarity that they’d never had before.

She spent Sunday dreading the end of it, Monday’s return looming just beyond the next sunrise. That evening they finished a large bottle of wine between the two of them before retiring to his study. The fire was going again, and her cheeks were flushed in the thick heat of the room. He took his usual chair.

She surprised him by crawling into his lap, straddling his hips so her skirt rode up and her face was inches from his. Her hands cupped his face before sliding down to caress his neck and slip under his collar. His skin was hot. Her hands were always a little cold, but he was hot. Hannibal’s body temperature always seemed to run a few degrees higher than everyone else’s.

“Hello.” He greeted her with a little smirk. His face was flushed too.

“Hi.” She huffed, burying her face against the soft linen of his shirt, which she held firmly by the lapels. “I can’t believe I’m going to ask this…” He face was getting a lot redder.

Hannibal smiled at her, eyes wicked. “Would another drink help? I have scotch on the mantle.”

“Yeah, that’d probably help.” She chuckled, hopping off of him and taking his place in the chair when he rose to retrieve the alcohol.

As he was pouring she blurted “Do you have drugs?”

His eyes went a little rounder, but he stared at her steadily over the coffee table.

“I’ll need you to be a bit more specific.”

That broke the tension, and she let out an embarrassing snort before collapsing against the chair.

“Pot! I meant pot. Jesus, Hannibal.”

The reaction made him chuckle. “I do have that. Somewhere. Let me go find it.”

He put her glass of scotch on the table next to her before darting over to his desk. She picked up the scotch and tasted it— the finest, of course, and as much as she appreciated it she had a feeling Hannibal’s grocery bill would be appalling. She sipped the scotch happily, watching him pull a drawer right out of the desk and open the false bottom.

“God!” She exclaimed with a laugh that made him look up, surprised. “It’s like dating a pirate! What else do you have hidden around here?”

He smiled widely as he brought the drawer over to her, pleased with her reaction. “You’ll never find out.” He teased, perching on the arm of her chair to show her the contents. There were a few different bags filled with pungent herbs that all looked almost identical, a pipe, a lighter and some papers.

She raised her hands in concession. “I have no idea what I’m looking at. You pick one.”

He nodded and moved back to the desk.

 

Moments later she was in his lap again, a joint being passed between them as they made idle conversation.

“I don’t really mind it. It’s nice and warm.”

“Even Will didn’t let them sleep in the bed unless they were sick.”

“Well, it’s lonely and my house is cold and they’re fuzzy.”

Hannibal looked doubtful. Alana took a small puff of the cigarette in her hands then pressed it back between his lips.

“I promise I won’t make you sleep with them.” She assured him, and he laughed around the thin paper tube, choking on the smoke he unexpectedly inhaled. He took a long drag, then passed it back to her.

“I don’t think they would, they were never that fond of me. Even when I fed them.”

She took a little puff before breaking into a small coughing fit. “That is strange. People usually like you when you feed them. I like you though.” She quickly passed the joint back.

He laughed again. “I should hope so. Do you actually want any of this, or are you just trying to mess me?”

“Mess you?”

“Make me inebriated.”

“Mess you up.” It occurred to her that it was the first time in all the years she’d known him that he’d fumbled his English.

“Mess me up!” He agreed, head rolling. He was smiling at her, that smile she’d seen so little of making a shining appearance in the warm light of the fireplace. He was watching her very closely.

She blushed under his scrutiny. “Yes.” She answered after a moment’s pause.

“Yes what?” Apparently he was a little more messed up then she’d realized. She was too, though.

“Yes I’m trying to mess you up!” She admitted, hiding her face in the front of his shirt.

He laughed at her. “Why? Not that I am complaining.”

“I just want to…” She sighed, moving her face up to plant soft kisses on his neck. The heat of his skin made her lips tingle. “…bring out another side of you.”

He sighed at the kisses, rolling his head so that she had access. “You don’t need to mess me up for that.”

She smiled against his corroded artery, pressing her bare teeth against the thin skin. She felt his body tense under her.

“I was looking for something a little more specific.” Then she moved quickly, brushing her lips at the juncture of neck and jaw. He gasped, neck crumpling as he tried to force her away with his shoulder.

“Oh! I was afraid of that.”

She chased him, keeping his torso trapped between her and the back of the armchair. She spoke wickedly right against his sensitive skin, even as he collapsed in an aborted escape attempt.

“You don’t have to be afraid.” She teased, and she was startled by the small laugh it drew out of him. He was less in control than he’d been when she arrived.

“Alana!” He tried to scold her. It wasn’t very effective in his harried state.

She grabbed a handful of his hair, gripping it close to the root to control his head and get better access. “Hannibal.” She answered him, mouth pressed under his ear.

Alana pulled back. He was flushed and flustered, hair out of place and clothes rumpled. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He pursed his lips.

“I am never smoking hash in your presence again.”

Alana rolled her eyes. “Why? You like what I do to you when you do.”

Hannibal sputtered comically. “I— I don’t—”

She gripped his hair again, pulling his head forward. “Yes you do.”

Alana leaned down, biting the back of his neck firmly. She heard a gutted gasp, watched the goosebumps sprout on his skin. She licked the bite mark soothingly, then whispered into his hairline.

“I remember everything about Friday night. Can you say the same?”

He flopped back, still crumpled under her, pupils dilated and eyes wide. The expression was a mixture of awe and uncertainty.

“I remember… most of it.” The fact that he couldn’t remember the evening with the same clarity she could clearly perturbed him. He was used to being in control, and he was realizing that on Friday he hadn’t been.

She backed off, allowing him to straiten and pressing the swell of her buttocks against his knees. She straitened his collar and smoothed his hair.

“Well, I can assure you that you had a really nice time. So did I.” She gave him a slanted smile, and he returned it, looking more like himself.  He relaxed against the back of the chair.

“Did you really get me high just so you could tickle me?”

She snorted again, leaning against him. “First of all, you got yourself high. I just made a suggestion.”

He rolled his eyes, and she retaliated with a poke to his ribs.

“Second of all, yes.” She nuzzled the front of his shirt to avoid meeting his eyes. “I really like it. It’s hot and cute all at once. I especially like doing it to you.”

“Why me?” Hannibal protested.

“Because of the way you laugh when I do it. Because when I tickle you you can’t help but laugh, and I like controlling what you do. I like making you helpless and happy and horny.”

His eyebrows were up high when she finally peeked at him. After a moment of silence she prompted him. “Well?”

“Well—” he answered quickly. “Well, I didn’t think you had that in you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she cried, smacking him on the chest.

“I simply mean, I mean that I never thought you desired dominance. You haven’t shown much sign of it until now. I’m usually better at noticing that kind of thing.”

She shrugged. “It’s not something I indulge very often.”

“You want to indulge it tonight, though?”

She grinned a little grin at him. “Would you be up for it if I did.?”

He looked thoughtful. “I think that would depend on what you wanted.”

“Would you let me tie you up?”

“Yes.” He answered, hesitation evident in his tone.

“What can I do while you’re tied up?”

There was another fluttering pause and a calculated look. Suddenly his smile shifted, becoming playful. He all but posed for her.

“Whatever you want, I imagine.”

She rolled her eyes. “Cocky. I could be mean to you.”

The next grin was almost a baring of his teeth. “You could. I wouldn’t be able to do much about it.”

His leg shifted lightly against the sudden weight in her pelvis, entirely intentional.

“No you wouldn’t. Do you have restraints?”

He gave her a sceptical look. “No, thankfully. I imagine that would have caused unpleasant questions during the police search.”

That set her off laughing again. “Oh, god. You would have had to… with Jack at least…” Her giggles petered out as she collapsed against his chest. He was chuckling with her.

Alana calmed when he did, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. “Oh, well, do you think we could find something?” She hopped off of his lap, holding out a hand to steady him as he rose and knocked back the last of her scotch.

“Yes.” He answered, finishing his own glass. “We could find something.”

##

It wasn’t long before Alana was kneeling on Hannibal’s mattress and squashing the urge to bounce with excitement. They’d made it to the bedroom this time, him wandering onto his closet while she peeled away his bedspread and folded it on top of the chest next to the foot-board.

When Hannibal returned he had a handful of old ties that looked worse for wear. When he put them down beside her she picked one up that had a tear on the side. It was made of low quality polyester, and she wondered if it was Hannibal’s. She’d never seen him wear anything like it.  

“Will those work to your satisfaction?” he asked, pulling off his waistcoat.  

Alana wrapped it around the palm of one hand, pulling the length of it tight with the other. “I think so. I cleared the bed, come over here.”

He turned to face her, fingers working at his cuffs. “I thought it would be easier if I undressed a little before you tied me up.”

She laughed. “I agree, but there’s no rush and I like undressing you.” She smoothed one hand over the soft cotton bedsheets. “Come here Hannibal.”

Something in the way she said his name made the tension in his jaw ease, tension she’d barely noticed before. He joined her on the bed, and she drew him near with a palm pressed to the side of his jaw. She kissed him deeply, grabbing the collar of his shirt in one fist and shoving him down on the mattress. He remained placid as she climbed atop of him.

Alana nipped at his chin before planting kisses along his jaw. Hannibal’s hands slid up her skirt, rough palm over smooth skin. His fingertips caressed his inside of her thigh and paused.

He buried his face in her hair, mouth against her ear to murmur “I’m not sure whether I should be pleased or terrified that you’re this exited at the mere prospect of tying me down.”

She bit her lip over top of a devious grin. “Well I’ve been thinking about it all weekend.”

She felt goosebumps rise under the palm of her hand where it rested against the warm skin of his throat. She slid her hands down, resting her fingers in the hills and valleys of his shoulder. Then she undid the buttons of his shirt one by one. The goosebumps followed her.

He was wearing a white undershirt beneath his button up, but it was thin, streatchy and easily worked around. Alana ran the tips of her fingers through the hair at the top of his sternum and he shivered. Then she reached for the old ties.

“How do you want me?” He asked, voice low. He watched her so intensely one would think she had a live snake in her hand.

“I’m not sure.” She looked at the tie thoughtfully. “Do you have a preference? You seem tense.”

The two statements had nothing to do with one another, but she said them a though they did. An old psychiatric trick, one Hannibal surely knew, but it got her what she wanted anyway.

“I have no preference. I am not tense, just experiencing a high level of anticipation.”

“Anticipation or dread?” She asked with a chuckle, rising to her knees and gesturing for him to scoot closer to the headboard. He did so, grinning up at her with a tense jaw and sharp-edged tone.

“I’m not that certain.”

##

With Hannibal’s hands bound above his head and one ankle tied to the foot board, Alana straddled his hips once more. He glanced down in surprise.

“What? she asked.

“Only one foot– Not that I’m complaining.” He added quickly.

“I thought tying both would reduce squirming too much. I enjoy it when you squirm.” It was an honest answer, and Alana sensed he knew it. He shivered under her again. She met his eyes.

“What’s your safeword?” She asked, voice low. The question made his mouth drop open.

The word “Paris” fell out from between his lips.

She nodded, bending down to nip at the top of one pectoral on the edge of the muscle that peaked out from the collar of his undershirt. It got her a little gasp, then a firmer bite got her a big one. His hips jumped, rubbing against her and she moaned. She really hadn’t realized how hot all of the anticipation had made her.

Both of her hands slipped underneath soft cotton and caressed his hips, the soft skin there almost hot against her cold fingers. The movement earned her a choking sound from above and another delicious squirm bellow, despite her relative innocence thus far.

“See? I told you I might be mean to you.” She murmured against his skin. She wasn’t sure whether she meant the pink bite mark or the teasing.

Hannibal made a sound that was part gasp and agreement when her thumbs traced his hipbones.

Alana sighed, annoyed that he hadn’t laughed yet. She tugged the thin fabric of the undershirt up as far as his ribcage and sat up so that she was watching his face over the hard plains of his torso. He watched her steadily, lips pressed into a thin line. Whether he meant the expression as a challenge or not, she took it that way.

Her hand started for his side, his whole body immediately jerking away from it. Her fingers didn’t even make contact before she paused.

“Relax, Hannibal.” She encouraged him softly, leaning forward to capture is gaze in hers. She lay her fingertips on the soft skin of his side, felt the flesh there quiver under her, but he didn’t break eye contact. She stoked downward and his jaw twitched; She stroked back upward and his lips pursed, but his torso remained rigid. When she repeated the gesture his whole face struggled for composure.

Her whole face warmed, flashing him a smile. “You know, when you hold it in you’re just challenging me to drag it out of you.”

His gaze held steady, but he couldn’t hide the pink flush that lit across his neck and chest. She started to wiggle her fingers, drawing circuitous patterns as she ran them up and down, up and down the smooth planes between hipbones and ribcage. She caught the edges of his abdomen with her fingertips, but never quite touched the thin, taught skin that covered the skeleton of his stretched frame.

His whole torso seemed to contract, muscles flexing in an effort to pull every part of him away from her. His hands twitched above their bonds, long fingers writhing before curling into fists.

“You’re gonna laugh, Hannibal. I’m hardly touching you. If you do it for me now I might go easy.” She was good at talking in bed. It was one of her strengths, one that lovers took notice of, and Hannibal was no exception.

Her teasing tone seemed to heighten both his sensitivity and his stubbornness, making him twitch while his eyes narrowed with determination over a set jaw. She just rolled her eyes at him, floating her hands over his ribs without warning.

A strangled yelp, his thin lips slipping between his teeth, eyes shut tight.

“Gotcha.” She said softly, stroking fingertips over the length of individual ribs.

He gave up on stoicism altogether, arms struggling against the ties as he turned to press his mouth against one bicep. His breathing stuttered when she skipped from fingertip to nail and back again with each stroke, a muffled sound escaping his considerable efforts for silence.

“What was that?”

He looked like he wanted to tell her off, eyes and nose crinkling over the swell of his arm. She had a feeling she’d be getting an earful of scolding if he wasn’t so determined to keep quiet. As it was he’d resolved not to laugh without a fight.

She focused on the front of his ribcage, thumbs grazing the rib under his pectorals and making him release a short cry, still muffled, but not enough for her to miss it.

“Stop? You want me to stop?” She moved up his ribcage, an he made a frustrated sound. It might have been a grunt if the pitch was lower.

She wiggled two fingers under one of his arms and he let out a burst of forced laughter intermingled with her name.

“Alana!”

She laughed at him. “Do you think if you say my name and sound scandalized I’ll stop? I think I’ll stop if you ask nicely.”

Hannibal was fighting rather hard against the bonds now, the outer reaches of his extremities expressing his body’s desire to escape her with wringing fingers and one furiously kicking foot. Strings of soft laughter were escaping him in bursts, still desperately muffled against his arms, but he still managed to give her the most furious pout she’d ever seen.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She teased, reaching up to stroke clever fingers along either side of his neck and forcing it to crumple, shoulders shrugging to try and defend himself. “I gave you an out. It’s well within the parameters of this game. Use it.”

“No!” It was meant to be another scolding, she was sure, but it turned into a yip when her fingers teased his collar bones. She followed it up by nipping him hard on the connection between shoulder and clavicle. His voice grew gravelly. “Dammit Alana!”

The sound of him cursing shocked her more than it should have. More than it should have, when they’d known each other so long. It spread heat across her face just as a sharp jerk of his hips reminded her of her own ache. She pressed herself against him, he was hard, and they moaned in unison.

God, this was good. God, how she liked to have him like this, but she wanted an ending and it was hard to do without his hands to assist her.

She ducked down, nipping at his ribs sideways so her teeth scraped she same way her nails had done minutes earlier. He immediately howled, free foot kicking and bracing against the mattress as his whole body bowed, tight as a bowstring in an attempt to get away.

“Alana! Don’t!”

She gnawed theatrically at his ribcage while making sure her breath, her lips, her tongue and she prickle of her breath drove him mad in the process.

“Stop! Alana, please!”

“What was that?” She paused, removing her teeth from the equation while keeping her lips pressed to his skin.

He was panting. “Please untie me.”

She waited a moment while he caught his breath, pelvis bucking needfully into hers. Not please stop tickling; not please stop biting; please untie me. She planted a kiss on his sternum as she reached up to do so.

She had only undone one knot when his wrists managed to fight free from the fabric altogether, hands gripping her shoulders and flipping her over fast and hard so he was kneeling between her knees.

He ground himself into her, the pressure so good she whined in the back of her throat. He buried his face between her breasts, the soft heat of his lips contrasting beautifully with the harsh shadow on his cheek and the cool silk of her low cut blouse. One of his hands slipped behind her back and around her arm to brace her shoulder while the other slid under her dress to press the heal of a palm against her mound. It was almost too high to put any pressure on her clit, but not quite.

Alana bucked against his hand, fingers curling into a fist to grip his hair when he paused to unbuckle his pants. Hannibal entered her quickly, hand returning faithfully to her clit as he moved within her. It didn’t last long, but the ending was spectacular.

Her head swam with endorphins, only clearing a little when Hannibal rolled off of her. A silence grew between them.

“Whoo.” She broke it, to some breathy laughter next to her. She felt the mattress shift as he reached for her, then a frustrated sigh. When she glanced over he was turning away from her to undo the knotted tie still affixed to his ankle. His other foot was left bare and unattended behind him, so she ran one fingertip down the sole.

Hannibal yelped, spinning so quickly to escape her that he almost launched his large frame right off the bed. He had at some point decided to try giving her more scandalized looks, now out if full force.

“You can’t tickle people after an orgasm, Alana. It’s poor etiquette.”

She lounged in his bed and smiled at him. She trusted the smile she got back.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter, enjoy!  
> Fanfic Tumblr:  
> poesparakeet.tumblr.com  
> Original Tickling Fetish Fiction (NSFW):  
> prudence-please-tickle.tumblr.com


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